


Two sides of the same coin

by Delitheunicorn



Category: The Black Cauldron (1985), The Last Unicorn (1982), The Last Unicorn - All Media Types
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Crossover, Crossover Pairing, Crossover Pairings, Crossover pair, Dark Romance, Death and the Maiden, F/M, High Fantasy, Slow Burn, crossover couple, crossover ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delitheunicorn/pseuds/Delitheunicorn
Summary: When two wildly different goals cross paths, one eventually must supersede to the other. Life and death meet in a fateful dance and must choose whether to fight or to love. Was it meant to happen, just as the stories foretold, or did it naturally sprung up? Crossover ship.
Relationships: Horned King (Prydain)/Unicorn | Lady Amalthea, Molly Grue/Schmendrick
Comments: 29
Kudos: 13





	1. Rumors have their use

**Author's Note:**

> So I figured, since I ship these two so much, it'd be better to write a fic where they properly interact and their stories collide instead of relying over and over on AUs (which are fun, but I'd rather you guys get into this ship by seeing them by my eyes- as to why I ship them, blah blah blah).
> 
> I mean, think of it you guys. The two are similar yet have their notable differences. She's pretty, he's ugly; she brings spring and life onto the world while he wishes to cover it in corpses; she's a godlike hero and he's a villain with devil elements, blah blah blah...Buuuut they're also both lonely old immortal creatures who mistrust humans yet their adventures allow them to get in touch with humans, even finding secret mortality beneath their beings. Also the two are very proud and arrogant. I think they'd find comfort in one another, at least. She wouldn't feel to make up a lie to be with him and he'd find someone who values life and death on equal terms and doesn't dismiss them at first. I dunno, it's like a High Fantasy version of Hades and Persephone/Beauty and the Beast and I think it's interesting.

“Schmendrick, we can’t be here much longer.”

“What can I do!? W-what, you think I can just jump and change his grace’s mind? Offer him a game of chess and let him win to sooth his heart!?”

He stuttered his reply at the woman, but Molly kept insisting; tugging at his guilt and urging his regret to sprung up on his face.

“It’s cruel to leave her in this fate. To leave us all trapped here. You know it as well as I do.”

“But I can’t influence a king! Especially not him!”  
  
The magician passed his fingers over his bloodshot eyes as the woman kept on arguing with him. He had lost the time, but it could have been an hour since the three had been imprisoned inside that chamber. The little goblin had promised to serve them food, but at this point the magician considered himself lucky they _weren’t_ the food.

Of course, he could be the responsible elder he actually was supposed to be and accept the fact that he shouldn’t have fought with Molly on the road, right after the rampage of the Bull had forced them to take a new direction, making them all pause enough time in the exact spot to alert those slimy dragons and the thugs…But Molly also should’ve listened to him and not be so pig-headed. How did _she_ know which was the right way to Haggard’s country? She had just invited herself into the quest a few days ago and had _no authority_ over him. The nerve…! If Nikos could see him now…

But no, Nikos couldn’t see him. Nikos had left a long time ago and wouldn’t want to have his resting time disturbed. He was unguarded, left alone by everyone…Except for one.

While her, the one who had been his companion much longer, the dream that took shape, the Unicorn…She just stood silent, a ghost observing and judging every single word and act he made.

But no, he had to ignore her for now, he had to think fast, if there could be a way to escape the castle and not land in his clutches any longer…But how? Molly’s insistence and the white girl’s slow judgment did little to aid him. Of all possible outcomes that could occur in this trip, landing as prisoners of the Horned King was one of the least favourable ones.

“We can’t stay here. At best we waste time, at worst…”

“Maybe, with the properly chosen words, you can change his mind.”

“Yes, because that worked so well with Cully didn’t it?”  
  
“Cully so wished there was a crown placed upon his head, but maybe this king will listen.”

“No, he won’t, he won’t, we’re lucky he hasn’t asked his dogs to tear us to shreds.”

“Well I’m out of ideas, but I know we can’t stay imprisoned here forever.”

The woman’s anger subsided for a moment, replaced with curiosity. The white girl also looked at him with suspicion.

“What do you know of the Horned King? I haven’t heard much of him. Is he working with King Haggard?”

He gulped. He had heard small whispers here and there among villages, but it was nothing compared to the conversations amongst the many wizards and witches.

“They say he’s the living dead. He made a deal with the devil a long time ago so to avoid death and live forever. It’s said only the cruellest of sadistic war lords accept to be in his service, that he tamed ferocious dragons only he can command, and that his ultimate wish is to find the Black Cauldron.”  
  
“The Black Cauldron?”

He slightly shrugged at that.

“It’s a myth, an object of old stories. Like Excalibur. It’s said to be a powerful cauldron with inmense magical properties, you could even turn into the overlord of the entire world, if you wish. but its main objective is said to be mostly used to raise the dead.”  
  


Molly’s eyes widened, but the girl simply kept looking at him with her eyelids half closed. Still, he felt the need to reassure them.

“But it’s said to all be mostly legends. But at this point, of course, nobody can know what is real and what isn’t, you can testify that.” He paused to lick his lips and measure his words. “But, it doesn’t change the nature of the king; he’s driven by one goal only, and that is the Cauldron.”

  
“So has he attempted open wars with neighbouring kingdoms?”

“Other kings from other kingdoms prefer to avoid him, and wizards and witches prefer to ignore him as well, but he finds a way. Of course, it’s, ah, unfortunate that he lives nearby to Haggard, but I haven’t heard yet of any confrontation between the two of them.”  
  
“Maybe Haggard holds the Cauldron, hiding it next to the Bull.”

“Well we don’t know that, do we?”  
  
“Oh don’t blame that on me, Schmendrick!”

She was right, he shouldn’t blame her entirely, since the route they followed towards Haggard’s land had been destroyed by the Bull, so they had to find a shortcut. It was just, again, unfortunate that they attracted the eyesight of those slimy dragons of his, enough for them to alert their master.

Molly gave a small grunt, and slightly scowled; but the girl was as impassive as a newly built fortress.

“He sounds ferocious.”

Schmendrick sighed. He would’ve preferred a more natural reaction that again, that neutral tone, those eyes staring emptily into the walls, but he should’ve been use to her mannerisms by now. The king was known for a ruthless and determined nature, what would he even do if he found out he had captured a unicorn?

“And now, if he falls for this disguise…”

“It did enough for the bull.”

She trembled, though there was no coldness to be felt, nor did her voice ever falter. But he could feel this shape sucking the strength out of her, second by second.

Molly placed a hand over the girl’s shoulders, who still clung on the magician’s black coat as if she held onto a lifebelt. The coat hung and folded elegantly against her figure, a dried leaf placed over a pearl statue; but Schmendrick knew that eventually, the novelty of her beauty would fade away to sharp lines and cold skin.

“Should we try to persuade him, my lady? Should we flee?”

She looked back at the two, still as lost as the first time she opened those eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“Your opinion matters.” Schmendrick replied.

“Funny, you didn’t think so a few hours ago.”  
  
“ _Don’t_ start with that.” His tongue was caught between his teeth, his breath clanking against the bars of his throat. He did good, she had to realize that and finally admit it, it would do her no good to battle with this form. Who knows, maybe it could even bring her _joy._

“I suppose…I suppose we can make this better, but I doubt.”

“Oh, really?” He guessed he had piqued her interest, rather hoped he could dissuade her apathy and transform it to genuine curiosity. Molly also looked at him a slight glitter in her eyes.

“Maybe we could pretend to be actors, or…Maybe, if it takes too long for him to see us, we could always…Escape.” Then he went faster. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve, and Molly, you know your way around rogues. Getting out would be-”

“Schmendrick, we’re imprisoned and observed by war lords, goblins, dragons and a dead king.” Why would Molly Grue recall this perilous situation in a manner that resembled a grocery list? “We need to think before jumping away.”

The woman scoffed, but the other figure merely looked away. He thought it wise to ask for her advice, even if she would hesitate to give it.

“What do you think?” And he wasn’t referring to the plan, only. And she knew, though it took her a while to find the proper answer.

“I doubt he’s any more dangerous than the bull or even the harpy. He’s old, dust covers his bones, and men would trample him if he ventured outside his castle. He’s a king with an unfit crown.”  
  
“But still a king.”

“If you say so…”

Suddenly the door creaked, and a small figure entered into the chamber: the little goblin that had welcomed them into the castle, taunting them along with the men. Thankfully, now he was alone, but he seemed as petulant as when he greeted them at the drawbridge.

“His Majesty wishes to speak to you, for you to appear in his presence in the throne.”  
  
“He’s quite educated.”  
  
“Move it! You mustn’t test his patience.”

So the three followed the critter, imaginging every possible outcome in their heads. Two guards followed once they left the cell, but they did little but carry a torch nudged them every now and then to keep on.

Once they arrived into the room, they were greeted by more emptiness. The men had seemed to vanish, and the only sound heard throughout the space was water dripping down into small puddles. A rat scurried here and there, but their feet barely echoed across the room. Had it not been for the warm figure in the shadows, close to the broken, dusty throne (it was a throne, was it?) they would’ve imagined they had been brought into another cell.

“Here they are, your Majesty.”

It took a while for the cloaked shadow to answer.  
  
“Very well, then. Leave us alone.”

And the goblin and the guards obeyed, closing the door behind them. Before the critter left the room, he bowed slightly towards the figure.

Once the door was closed, darkness swallowed them whole again. Had it not been for the unicorn’s bright starry hair, Schmendrick would’ve sworn he had gone blind.

After a few minutes, the creature turned at them, and the magician finally got a glance at the infamous King.

Only Death itself would be comparable to His Majesty. _Just as the stories told_. Beneath a heavy maroon cloak with musky fur on its trim, there only lay the head of a skeleton looking back at him. Dark, empty sockets were set on the skinny man, while rusty, brittle teeth shone where his lips should’ve been. He wasn’t sure if the mouldy, yellow scrap holding on to his bones was skin or waste. The fingers, as expected, were long and skinny. A scent of sulphur and burnt coals hung over him with every step he took, as if he carried with him all the pestilence of the world over his shoulders. But of course, what took the crown was his crown invented crown that rested over his head, two pair of black, glistening horns that reflected the unicorn’s white hair. If Schmendrick could allow himself to imagine, he would have admitted the Red Bull had changed shape and followed them straight into the castle.

Only one word he muttered:

“Bow.”

And on queue, the two humans did as such. But the girl took her time, preferring to observe him a while longer. He gasped, what was she thinking!? Just for acting ethereal she would blow their cover completely! _Get down, get down!_

But, if he was allowed to calm down, stop thinking about horrible outcomes and raise his head…There was an odd admiration in her eyes. The other time her eyes seemed that invested, it was right after they met, at the Midnight Carnival. Was she seeing in that skull the same glint that hid in the glance of the harpy? Had she found another lost sibling for her to rekindle with? If he could guess, she could’ve raised her hand to pet him.

But it lasted only for a dream, a second; before she finally submitted and bowed at Molly’s anguished tug. Her lilac eyes were still anchored onto his own, though.

The king paced slowly in front of them, observing the prisoners for a while before he continued. Schmendrick’s back shuddered as he recalled those empty sockets, doorways into hell itself, and to consider that they were carefully examining each of them…He prayed she would not bring so much attention…If at all.

“My men found you today, wandering near my terrains. I do not tend to receive many visitors, so you might understand my weariness upon your appearance. Are you friends or foes?”

He sat down afterwards in his broken throne, expecting an answer.

Molly turned to look at him, and he gulped, rising and going forward. If he had to speak in behalf of the whole group…

“I am Schmendrick, the magician; last of the red hot swamis, apprentice to Nikos…”  
  
“You’re boring me.”

What a rude reaction! Usually mayors or leaders managed to listen to the end of the whole conversation before they began with impertinent questions. His fears and doubts were right concerning this King, at least.

“…Well, I t-think, your Grace, you would understand us better if you knew about us first, before you properly cast your judgement…”

“Go on, then. But remember my words.”

He nodded, and then continued, pointing towards Molly.  
  
“And this is my assistant, the lovely Molly Grue, who’d make an excellent cook and seamstress…”

Molly quickly nodded, but the King just looked at her with a vacant stare. And then, once Schmendrick laid eyes on the girl, he hesitated.

“And this is the, the Lady Amalthea…My niece.”

Where did he get that name? Had he read it in a book, a long long time ago, as part of his studies? Or did it just come to him in a spur of the moment?

Oh, well. He had to stop doubting at this moment. The disguise would be even more convincing than it was it they applied a name to it.

Yet, once he finished the introduction, the King stood up.

“This is a joke. This cannot be real. You must be tricking me.”

Schmendrick looked back at Molly and then back to his Grace. No, no, no!

“N-no, your Grace, you must be mistaken. No, we’re just weary travelle-”

But the King rose from his broken throne, and the act alone silenced the magician.

“Your eyes…I see foxes in them, why is that.”

 _Oh_ , he finally realized. He was nothing but a blue spot for the King. The skeleton centred all of his attention onto the girl (Amalthea, it was Amalthea now, he couldn’t forget), his expression transforming from bored annoyance to…surprise?

And then…Was that a smirk, widening on his Majesty’s face? Could his teeth even smile without lips!?

“Quite an an unusual group of travellers you are. A lost maiden, a poor man’s magician, and…” He paused. “…A woman…?”

Another silence. Schmendrick raised his head to observe the king, and he regretted it all the way. But he couldn’t look away. Shouldn’t. It was as if today, he had been bath under a stairway in bad luck juice. Every bad decision was taking form in one way or another.

“…My lord…?”

But he felt dumb asking that. Her eyes said enough. _His eyes_ said enough. Schmendrick’s throat dried, and his stomach jumped.

“…A unicorn.”


	2. The Devil lent me a tissue

The silence was unbearable. After he muttered those words, nobody else spoke or moved. Even the unicorn had lowered her head, an action resembling...shame? Acceptance? Surrender?

How could it have gone so wrong!? Ever since Schmendrick transformed her Unicorn into the new unwanted shape, they had met misstep after misstep. Perhaps her new form carried ill luck? Molly was no stranger to consecutive misfortunes, but even the woman could admit that at some points the world seemed ready to give her the bird. That just after surviving the demonic Bull’s assault, they were immediately snatched by scaled scavengers; it felt too precise for her. Perhaps fate and misfortune have a funny sense of humour.

The King seemed to doubt, whether to walk or to sit or to rise; but his eyesockets never left the girl, no matter the action he took.

“You’re quite far from your golden woods, what brings you here?”

It seemed obvious whom he was addressing, but Schmendrick, as always had to interfere.

“M-my lord, you must be confused, no, that isn’t how…”

“Lilac.” She paused, shocking the magician with her boldness. “My woods are lilac.”

 _Well, she’s not so far gone._ A glimmer of her true self shone in her eyes when she answered the King, a light Molly had worriedly seen vanishing little by little as time went by. She was glad at least she remembered to keep the spark within her yet.

“That’s better.” Satisfied, his gaze was then diverted to Schmendrick. “I’ll take her words over yours, magician.”

The blue man pondered over his words, raised his fists slightly, and then dropped them, alongside a heavy sigh. _Don’t carry all the world in your shoulders, it’s more than you can weigh._

“Well, alrightalrightalright, alright, no, no, it’s not, but you know now so there is no point for me to trying to distract or trick you; she’s a woman, not a woman, a unicorn, we hoped you wouldn’t notice…”

“It’s very obvious what she is. I could even see her from afar.”

Molly knew little of skeletons and the undead, but even she could notice when the King would sound irritated.

“So you captured us because you noticed her?”

“I have my ways of observing.”

It made sense, in a way. If Schmendrick’s words were true, he was no stranger to the study and reward of magic, and that would lend credence to him noticing a unicorn more than any mortal king. She guessed it was as good a time as any to intervene in the conversation.

“And maybe that’s why there are no men nearby.” Yes, it wasn’t so subtle to notice the silence and emptiness of the room. Compared to the first time the trio entered into the castle, which almost resembled a full tavern at the time. The jests, the howls, the splattering of ale all over their heads…Yes, the King was kind to spare them that spectacle.  
  
“Men wouldn’t see a unicorn even if it stabbed them with its horn.” The tips of his fingers touched each other as he softly chuckled. “I figure we can keep this little secret between us.”

Men never know when a unicorn stares them fully in the face, which is probably why the Unicorn appeared to Molly, at the end of her time. Molly still believed; even in times when she was hungry, when she was tired, when she was skinning the same old rat to prepare the same old soup for the new recruit into Cully’s hopeless quest. A fragment of her heart still belonged to the heart of little Molly, long gone amidst the fog and the sand.

Still, with those words, the King turned from frightful to respectable in Molly’s eyes.

“That’d be better for all of us.”

“You can see her, can you?”

She realized his demonic Grace was addressing her; and she nodded, bravely.

“I’ll never forget the day we met, even when I’ll be grey and forget my own name.” But she lowered her eyes as she observed that the girl (it was Amalthea, wasn’t it?) wasn’t looking at her.

The Horned King seemed satisfied with her answer, however.

“So why is she a woman? I can’t recall if unicorns own the power of transfiguration. If so, then-”

“No, we don’t.”

Well, there was no need to hide anymore. Especially if she herself admitted it.

“We were attacked by the Red Bull. He almost tramples us to death.”  
  
“On orders of King Haggard, if the rumours are certain, which they are now, I fully believe.”

That’s when the Lady Amalthea jumped again.

“The bull! Is he near? Do you own the Red Bull?”

The king stared at her with a mix of awe and exasperation.  
  
“Do I look like the Bull is my pet?” He turned again towards the mortals, the bother still inflicted in his tone. “So the rumours are true, Old Bastard Haggard is in command of the Red Beast…I simply thought those were just rumours and gabble from the peasants.”

“Oh, no my Lord, it’s all true. From east to west, the talk of the town is that Haggard has ordered the Bull to cross the country, far and wide, in search of every single unicorn, from the oldest to the youngest. He wants them all for himself, and won’t care if he destroys the Earth in the process. We were lucky we survived our own encounter.”

The King watched him for a few minutes; dangling his antlers from one side to other, until he finally laughed.

“Hah! Haggard, that old bastard. I should have known he would ravage the land for his own whims. I just thought my men were deluding themselves, but it’s true…No wonder the land has been found in shit for years. The trees barely grow, and most of the animals have fled. It’s a dark time for farmers indeed.”

Schmendrick blushed, and Molly noticed that he seemed to be in search of her advice. But what could she say? He seemed to get ahold of the situation quite better than expected.

“Still, why would you take the last unicorn in the world to Haggard’s land? To imprison her? Not a very smart move.”

And Schmendrick blushed even more.

“We thought maybe she could get near, to know the full truth…And as a woman…”

“It’s better than to wonder aimlessly through the woods and waste time.”

 _He’s taken it all by himself, it’s too much._ And she knew better than being too harsh on the boy. Yet the King did not seem perturbed by her insolence.  
  
“Much too dangerous, perhaps Haggard can see underneath the disguise. No, you’re better here, away from him.”

He rose from the throne, and began circling them once again.

“Maybe the cauldron can help you, it can give you the power and armies to march onto Hagsgate and overtake the castle. As a mere woman with a cook and a jester for company, she will not amount much.”

“My Lord, I am not just a jester. My tricks are small, but I am still a magician in every sense of the word…Most senses, but still adapt. I can turn water into wine, and attempt cream into butter, even if they’re old tricks…I was Nikos’ apprentice after all.”

“Nikos…Nikos…So you may be familiar with the Witches of Morva.”

“I might have heard of them…Yes, Nikos did speak of them every once in a while. We are a small trade, you see.”

Molly just nodded along, preferring to seem interested over rude. But if she could admit, she was just lost when it came to tricks and magic.

“And you might know of the cauldron…Which would be then imperative for you to take control of it, before Haggard places his hands on it…”

“It’s not a war…” Schmendrick began, but he trailed off as the King began murmuring to himself. But the cauldron was only a myth, right? Or were myths starting to take shape in the world, due to the Unicorn’s magic? Molly wasn’t so sure anymore, but the only thing she knew well at this point was to keep her eyes open.

The lich stopped whispering, and turned back to them; donning the regal mask of a King once again.

“Consider yourselves my guests now, instead of my prisoners. You can walk wherever you please, either within the castle or its grounds; yet you will attend to me whenever I require of your presence.”  
  
“Hum, yes, my Lord.”

“You will be transferred to more appropriate chambers and be given food and drink. Water as well, if you wish to cleanse yourselves.”

“Oh, my Lord, we are so grateful for…”

But the King interrupted Schmendrick once again.

“She will need clothes. I’ll see to it that you get proper cloth.”

Well, he managed to read Molly’s thoughts at least. _His Grace has common sense._ Was Schmendrick deluded enough to think she would last more days with only that little cloak as garments? What if the wind blew harder one day, or she splashed onto a bucket of water? What if one of the men left their hand to travel onto her? Molly had seen enough of that to endure it again, only this time with her Unicorn.

The shadows fluttered over them and the little crawling critters of the corners once the King finished, and paced softly towards the door. He could’ve have covered the whole world with his cape and his fur, if he so wished, at least the large, empty throne room could’ve. With a simple grunt once he opened the door, the little goblin was already at his feet, ready to obey his every whim.

“Yes, your Excellence?”

“Take our guests to proper chambers. I’ll see to it that they’re adequate and hope you do not fail me.”

The green little toad paused and slightly opened his mouth before responding.

“But, my lord…”  
  
“Don’t doubt my words.” He gritted his teeth, and that act was enough to end the toad’s stuttering and doubt. He bowed till his head reached the floor.

“As you wish.”  
  
“Creeper is my second in command and orders the rest of the staff in the castle. You go through any inconvenience; you ask Creeper for help.” He then commanded the critter. “And you will respond and aid our guests gently.”

If Creeper was terrified, he did a good job of masking it, since he simply turned forward and marched towards the end of the passage. The King and his guests followed close, along with the two torched guards of before (they oh so casually had set watch outside the throne room; Molly just prayed they had gone deaf for a few minutes).

As the march continued, Molly noticed how Schmendrick did everything in his power to avoid eye contact with anyone, but the Lady Amalthea couldn’t take her eyes off the Horned King. A little curious mixture of awe, admiration, gratitude, pity and guilt seemed to flash through her eyes as each step took them closer to their destined rooms. Molly at least it would smell better than old water and rats. What could the Lady Amalthea see in him? A kin creature, much like her, immortal and revered? Similar horns? Maybe relief at not being able to talk with Haggard yet?

She could’ve studied the gaze more, had it not been for the urge of voices and clatter, and soon enough they were passing through the great hall, where the men drank and rested. Once the group fully entered into the hall, silence fell over them. Molly, instinctively, went towards the Lady Amalthea and attempted, but in a flash she yelped, and she noticed a hand attempting to pass under Schmendrick’s old coat. Just as Molly was ready to swat the hand…

…The skeletal hand was much faster, grabbing the soldier who dared and looked at him straight in the eye. A few inaudible blubbering, some cries, and then a howl and a crunching sound, and the man was again on the floor, holding his now deformed arm in excruciating pain.

The Horned King then continued the march as if nothing happened.

Schmendrick yelped, and his eyes sweat, but neither Molly nor Amalthea reacted much save raise an eyebrow. The fewer men that grabbed a woman’s parts that way, the better. And if the Lord of the Dead agreed with their views… Well then, Molly wouldn’t mind then being called a witch (even the magical type). She heard worse.

Just as they were about to leave the hall by the right door, the King turned towards his men and proclaimed.

“These are my guests. A magician, a seamstress, and a highborn lady. For now, their stay will be indefinite. Anyone who does not attempt to protect them or create a welcoming recreation for them shall suffer the consequences.”

The men barely reacted, only a few whispers amongst them, but many nodded at their king’s words. The Horned King seemed satisfied, to equal silence amongst his mercenaries with agreement. Well, the howling man with the broken arm was still sobering amongst them. After that they wouldn’t dare go against their master’s orders.

As they left the hall, in the new corridor, Creeper approached the King, hesitating.

“Uuuh, sire, I think I may know what chambers to use…Perhaps the ones in the second East tower…? They’re cosy and not in much use. One for the magician and his needs; and the other for the lady and her maid, they can share the room.”

“Very well.”

Molly found it rather unfair to not have a room of her own, but it was also better this way. She could keep a close eye on Amalthea and also bath in the warmth of privacy. The men would stop searching her to ask impertinent questions, as well.

They continued on, without much commotion occurring afterwards, until they arrived to a thick wooden door.

The room inside it was small, and dusty, and the stench of musk and mould and old water was still sewn onto the walls as it had been in the cell, but at least Molly could sigh with content at seeing two beds in the room. Well, at least they were that considerate.

“I’ll call for the men to find some cloth. Make her something warm, the men complain it tends to get cold in here.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She admitted her ventures into the intricate world of stitchery and sewing had results…Less than favourable; but she guessed she didn’t have the upper hand to either sass him or tell him the truth.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Seconds before he left with Schmendrick towards his room, Molly was sure he returned the glance back to the Lady Amalthea, but neither said a thing before he closed the door on them.

“Well, we’re alone, my lady.”

She nodded, but her glance still didn’t leave his scent. She walked slowly towards the bed, still clasping on to Schmendrick’s coat. Her free hand slightly tapped the bed, to assure herself that it was there, it wouldn’t vanish, but she was still uncertain.

After a few moments of silence, she finally replied.

“They don’t want us here.”

Molly followed her, placing a warm arm over her shoulders for comfort. She knew the girl wouldn’t think much of it or even thank her, but it was better than staying still and whispering empty encouragement.

“No, they don’t. So we must keep our eyes open at all times then.”

The door opened again, breaking the small intimacy of the two, and Schmendrick perturbed onto the scene, sweating and fluttering words into the air.

“Oh great, just what we needed. More diversions to pause on our quest. I think a cat spat us or something.”

“How was your room, magician?” He didn’t notice her teasing tone, as he kept blubbering, flustered.

“Small, cramped, a tiny bed, quills that don’t scribble a thing…It’s insane.”  
  
“All of this is better than starving on the heels of the Red Bull.”

“We’re still prisoners, Molly, just in a golden cage. Or copper, seeing the state. He’s gonna use us for his desperate cauldron search, you’ll see.”  
  
“But what if he’s right? What if she’s safer here than if we had passed Hagsgate?”

“You heard the stories, you know the tales. We’re lucky we’re alive for the moment, but sooner or later he’ll get bored and feed us to his dragons, or wyverns, whatever they are, you’ll see.”

“What do you think, my lady? Did we make the right choice?”

She guessed she’d waste less time discussing with her than with Schmendrick. Yet, her answers will always leave her pondering at night.

“…Kind, but deluded.”


	3. New habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate these type of chapters since they're just long for its sake and barely add anything to the plot, but oh well.

“I can’t do much, Molly. At least not more than juggle oranges. Looking into the future is outside of my reach, or at least Nikos had forgotten to mention it in his classes and notes.”

“Well I’m not good at sewing, either, but I think the coat is serviceable.”

She guessed so. Her hands still ran all over her body, with her new claws ready to dig and open any possible wound thanks to the scratch. The coat was of a dark maroon shade, and it draped over her two or three times over her shoulders, similar to a cape. A hood hung on her back, ready to cover her hair whenever she pleased to. She guessed the extra layers would keep her warm when the weather dropped, but a part of her had grown fond of the little tattered black coat.

The rest of her day she simply passed it by counting the minutes, modeling with the gown, picking her forehead, scratching the surface of her mattress, and then observing her aids bicker back and forth. Could she do else? Should she do else? She still trembled whenever she went too fast, and feared of falling again. Many years ago, she would have scoffed at the mere thought of such a sentiment, but in this form everything was new for her, so she had to be cautious. And rely on her mortal friends even more than before. Yet guilt still hasn’t eaten his mind. 

Molly would turn around to get a good look at the gown, frowning at a loose thread or crooked stitch that dared to display. Her model stood still, but she could notice her eyes furrowing at her heavy breathing.

“It’ll do her well for the winter, that’s true. Not the most practical for trekking, but that is not high on her list of priorities.”

“Do you like it, my lady?”

She didn’t answer quickly, but Molly took her silence for conformity. She liked that at least with Molly she didn’t need to retort and explain everything that passed through her mind.

“It is heavy, but I cannot do much about it. I can’t walk in the flesh.”

The old maiden sighed, but Schmendrick simply waved her concerns away with a hand.

“It’ll do, Molly. Let it go.”

“It’s not just that, Schmendrick. I just…don’t feel this is adequate.”

“It was the only cloth the men could give you, and the nearest town is miles away.”

“I know that! But I still don’t like it…Schmendrick…She’s wearing his colors.” 

“It means nothing. It’s only for a while, until one of the men travel and find more fabric. Like you said, it’s better than my old coat.”

She played deaf, but she knew perfectly well that they knew she understood their words. His, there’s only one him that matters now. She scratched her forehead slowly. But the moment to address him would come, sooner or later. Should she think of him now? If she thought of him, he would surely appear in front of her. It would do her better for ignore him for the moment. 

She moved from her pose towards the small window, where she noticed a crow perched in the windowsill. It didn’t fly away at her figure, but the animal did focus its eyes onto her. Where had she seen that feather pattern before? Maybe the little trickster had haunted her in a dream, if her dreams were still alive. 

As she rose her newly born hand to tap on the window, the door opened with a thud and there stood the green little goblin, panting.

“You! He wants to see you.”

“You? Who is “you”?”

“You, you fool!” He paused. “You and her.”

Ah, that told them enough. Even she could by how the critter desperately tried to avoid her glance, by focusing all of his attention and derision on Schmendrick. The magician sighed and muttered under his breath, but the…girl? Simply followed the two in suit. Molly was left on her own, but Schmendrick made a gesture with his hand to her before leaving the room.

As they continued walking in the passageway, the critter was mumbling and stumbling along the way yet avoiding her glance at all cost. He knows who I am. He’s terrified. Could the King have told him? There was little incentive for her to believe in his oaths, but the manner in which the creature stammered reminded her of the clumsy, awestruck human clients of Mommy Fortuna’s carnival. Hungry, empty; yet desperate to find a living legend in their lives and treasure it for their own selfish fantasies.

Thinking about the black tents and the hurt animals made her head spin, and a white milky light took over her eyes. Her legs shrieked for her to fall down, but a figure held her up to continue standing still. Was it Schmendrick? When she felt better she thought she would ask him if this was normal for women, but then he was at her side, softly urging.

“Come on, come on, not here, he mustn’t see you like that…Don’t you faint on me…” His arms held on to her softly but also firm. It was so strange to feel another’s hand on her so frequently, when before she had spent millennia without anyone even daring to raise a finger. The tips of their fingers still made her skin prickle up. Was this common for all women, too?

“MOVE IT!” Yes, that was Creeper, no doubt.

“I feel faint.”

“It’s normal, we haven’t been eating much. But you mustn’t faint now, later, with Molly. He mustn’t see our weaknesses.”

She rose and shook away the dizziness, but the echoed, blank memories still haunted her. She touched her forehead again to reassure herself. As they approached closer the chamber, he kept whispering to her.

“We must follow whatever order he tells us.”

“I know.”

“Granted, I don’t know how much my tricks can last, but at least he’ll be entertained by our story for a little while.”

Was she afraid? No, at least the few moments that her mind was directed towards the corpse, little anguish grew within her. Maybe it was her fear over her new body and new thoughts that drowned any possible dread she may harvest for the Horned King. After all, what difference could another immortal beast be for her? If he wanted to kill or overpower her, similarly to the Harpy or the Bull, he would’ve done so in an instant. But no, she guessed he was too amused with her to skin her yet. She felt no need to run for a second time, and once again, it had saved her from another mortal attack. But how much longer? The broken arm and Schmendrick’s tales showed her enough of him to know he was not a patient man. No, she was fooling herself; he was a man as much as she was a woman.

They finally entered into the chosen room for the occasion. The King had advised them previously that he would prefer to work with them in private, so they would use an abandoned chamber of the castle in order to concentrate and avoid the pestilence of the hunters or other mild inconveniences. Once Creeper urged them to enter, she could see the need for privacy: the space was small and cramped, the walls closing in on a dusty picture of abandoned scriptures, rolls, broken telescopes, rusty cauldrons, and bug-bitten chairs. The scent of mold water clang to the air of this room as in other parts of the castle, and by the light of the torches little critters of the dark hurried here and there on the corners of the room.

Small, but it would work, whatever plan was the one that he had in mind.

Speaking of the devil, his figure rose in the center of the chamber, amidst brimstone and sulfur; making Schmendrick slightly gasp. If she could be fair, she hadn’t noticed he was in the room, either. Could it be magic that transported him there, or was he just waiting in the shadows for his guests? He paced slowly towards them and gave each of them a look.

She raised her eyes at him once his glance landed on her. She was never one to care much about holding gazes previously; but now that she had been cut from the stem, it was an act of pity and obligation to do so. Looking back at those empty caverns for eyes that he had, she could only recall coldness. Coldness, apathy…Bitterness? The memories of the harpy threatened to spring in her mind once again, but the same sensation of immortality crashing against her veins pulsated against her when looking at him. Should she flee? Why should she, after all…She was the safest here…

And the sensation broke the moment he moved away to focus on Schmendrick. His empty eyes still lingered on her, but the sensation of wonder, understanding and dread was diminishing as the seconds passed. She strangely missed the feel once it died. She touched her forehead again, but the scar had cooled off.

“I have a proposition for the two of you.”  
Sweatdrops began pouring down the magician’s forehead, his body preparing itself for the task or punishment ahead.

“…Whatever you wish, your highness.”

He sat in front of them, his chair resembling a throne when compared to their flea-bitten, scraggly seats. Even amidst dust and garbage, by the simple movement of his hands he managed to impose a regal presence.

“…Due to your powers, I imagine you’re familiar with many commonalities of the world pertaining to the occult, to sorcery and wizardry.”

Schmendrick rose a finger to his lips, slightly pressing it before replying. 

“Well, I do know some tricks. My time at the circus allowed me to see a little more than the common man, and to distinguish between riddles and puzzles, songs and rhymes, turtles and tortoises, melons and honeydews, horses and unicorns…”

She grunted, allowing the growl to be heard throughout the room, like a beast making its presence known to its prey. At this point, a mare could carry more dignity than her. An inner pinch resembling pity mewled inside of her.

However, if the King heard her snarl, he paid no matter to it.

“Good then, I imagine, then, it would not be too difficult for you to find the Black Cauldron.”

“T-The Cauldron? But your Majesty, that’s a children’s tale, a myth, a dinosaur! It’s gone, lost to the earth, much like Excalibur, or Mjolnir, or the Ring of Gyg-”

“Do not contradict me.” She could feel his bones tensing at the prospect of being denied. “I know it is real, forgotten, but not gone. Hidden somewhere in the world, buried under rabble and rubble from time gone by and tattle run wild, but still among us.”

“But your Grace…”

“Another but, and it’s the dungeons for you.” His pointed finger did not tremble. Threats couldn’t be easily swayed.

So the two sat, observing the vat of water in front of them. A looking glass that could reach into the future? She observed his hollow eyes following her, while Schmendrick’s glance furrowed; but as far as she knew, only the ripples were smiling at her. Not metal, or bronze, or copper.

After a few seconds of nothing, she spoke.

“I see nothing.”

And naturally, he was not amused.

“Try it again.”

And they tried it, almost twenty more times, and all she saw time and time again were just tricks, reminders of the lake by her forest, but nothing resembling fate, or a cauldron, or black magic. He would push them and hover over them and almost hold down by their necks, but only his breath was willful enough to drown them.

Of course, there was something in a moment, a light, a tremble, a voice, but as soon as the cage and the silver glint was in her mind…It was gone, took flight before she could properly observe it. She was back again in the circle, with Schmendrick and the King observing her with cautious eyes. What happened?

“…I see nothing.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Your grace…”

“DON’T MOCK ME.”

She looked up at him again, this time with a slight arched eyebrow. Her stomach churned, and red hot boiling fury took over her, was it fury?   
His eyes were glowing red, and the mist surrounding them began to flair, rising and protecting her against his fire, but she calmed down once she noticed Schmendrick’s sweaty palms.

She tapped in the space where the horn had been previously. It still burnt.

His eyes fell onto to her, heavy and demanding, but the lady stood silent as the moon. She faded seamlessly into the inherent silence of nature that men could have believed her to have been born a mute. The wind had calmed down for the moment, but his hand still shook and his eyes were still bleeding red.

But after a few more minutes of struggling, he persisted.

“Very well. We’ll try tomorrow, then. But we better see some results. If not…”

But his menace died in his throat. It was long gone out of her mind as the two were accompanied by the goblin back to their chambers. His eyes were shimmering every now and then in her mind. The passion, the anger, the will…She recalled the night of the Red Bull in her thoughts once more, and again, she wondered if those demonic eyes hadn’t belonged to the King. Could they? They were as driven, certainly, but with different goals.

Once back in their room, Molly stared at them.

“So, it didn’t work out.”

“Well, he’s not gonna leave us now that’s for certain.”

She nodded at the magician’s words.

“He’s wasting time. He treats the cauldron as his own unicorn, a wild beast who tears at him to search and find through every cravat of the earth. Sooner or later it’ll do him in.”

“Yes, his personal white whale. I agree, I don’t know what he will intend to do with us if we keep on like this.”

“Keep us searching for the cauldron, even if it sickens him.”

“You know he only treats us nicely because of you, right?”

It didn’t surprise her. She guessed it he was a impatient as today they would sooner end inside a dungeon than free.

“I figured.”

“So what do we do?”

“Keep him enthralled, Molly. It’s the little we can do until he gets tired of us.”

The crow had followed them, it seemed. The animal was again perfectly content sitting in the windowsill, even if the nightsky was darkening around it, but she wondered if anybody else had noticed the bird. Molly? Schmendrick? The bird gave a small caw, but it seemed only she was listening to it.


	4. Drowning in lies

“It’s useless!”

It had been the third time in the last hour that his grace had exclaimed similar threats and oaths; Creeper could have even sworn he heard wood creaking as well.

Should he intervene? After all, for the benefit of his neck, he could always ignore his King’s tantrums and follow the huntsmen in their drunken jests and stupor. But something within him, false loyalty perhaps, urged him to attend to his master.

He knocked on the door, but he wasn’t expecting much of a reply. Silence was as good as any.

After some tension, a voice echoed.

“What do you want.”

“M-may I come in, sire?”

More silence, but Creeper could feel the purring calmness of it, tinkering like a water drop in a sink. Feeling braver, he ventured in.

The King was shaking heavily, rumbling in an island of his own, lost amidst broken books and ruined wreck. Two bitter glittering embers shone in the darkness.

“What do you want.” His grace repeated, trying his best to blend in the shadows.  
  
“To aid you, sire. In wellness and ailment.”

Yes, even the King saw through the phony rehearsal.  
  
“I don’t need your help.”

“But, sire, if things do not work…”

“Work with what.”

“You know…” He gulped. “…With her.”

There it was, just inches from his throat. He could say goodbye to the rest of the day…

But his master stopped before he could even scratch his tips over his skin. Instead, he preferred to circle around the critter.

“I’m getting nowhere. Week after week, day after day, second after second, and she only mocks me with those cold stone eyes of her. The cauldron might be buried in her own locks, yet she refuses to even point me towards the key. Never in my whole existence have I been so humiliated. Yet she does so with ease!”

He knew the cauldron’s search couldn’t wait any longer, that sooner or later his master’s ire would land on the…guest, yet…Yet…

“But sire…Maybe if you so wish for her to collaborate with you… You should do…”

How could he say that? No, Creeper was deluding himself. He should rush back to the kitchens and stop with this kitsch little fantasy of his head.

“Do what.” He responded flatly. The critter hovered over his toes before properly responding. Well, he had already started.

“Be…Be…Be…Be more gallant.” Was it so absurd? Did he have to spit it out? “If you further intend to use the…her in your plans, and even if you insist going forward with the conquest, she should feel at ease with you. She should be your ally, not your prisoner.”

And he loathed his master, he did, in his dreams he could openly claim that; but he preferred to endure his insults and his beatings over ever reaching her light again. He couldn’t survive it. And yet…A tiny portion of his body craved to be bathed in her warmth. Would his master crave it as well? Would he soften at her touch?

His grace growled. The lackwit could presume towards the other brutes of being his second in command, but that did not save him from the rightful lashings and beatings.

And yet, yet…A chortle left his king’s mouth, instead of a threat. Creeper widened his eyes and trembled at it. It was still too dark, but he could see a mockery resembling a smile rise in his skull.

“Yes, because I am such a chivalrous figure.” He paused and pondered. “I should do like knights and send her bouquets of flowers, or carry her favour tied to my forearm.”

Yet he didn’t sound mad, nor insulted…Rather, more tired. When was the last time he saw his master sleeping? Could he find himself exhausted for a mere fantasy?

“No, that could not work. It can’t work.”

Well, it was all for naught. The critter then thought of the second best option.

“What about her assistant? He’s a wizard, after all, your Grace.”

And another annoyed reply. It was a snort this time.

“The magician is a waste. He’s as useful as the girl and the bard. I couldn’t even command him to turn butter into cream.”

“So, maybe, would you be satisfied in sending him to the dungeons, sire? To keep them company?”

He hesitated before replying, preferring to extend his walk a little further. Creeper then wondered, as he often did; if his master could simply float above the ground, and kept it to himself as an element of surprise.  
  
“No, she seems fond of him…” _As much fondness a man has towards a dog_ , he thought. “And there must be power in him, hidden, to have birthed her in the first place.”

Creeper paused, what did that mean? He knew better than to anger his master, but the words seemed to have planted doubt in his tiny little brain.

“Then maybe…If she so concerns you, perhaps...”

He spoke quickly at that, not even allowing Creeper to finish.

“I can’t touch her. I won’t. She’s above…” His voice trailed off, for once in his afterlife seeming lost. But the usual anger and quick mood soon took over.

“I’m wasting time with this, more than I should. And you’re further wasting it if you have no good counsel to give.”

Yes, it was time for him to leave, before the usual choking again. But before he could close the door on his master, he felt daring again. Was it due to her? Who knew, he certainly didn’t.

“Well, sire, I can’t tell you what to do, but maybe, with her…Something more should be done. Something different.”

Yes, something small, simple, and off to the kitchens again, maybe come back a few hours later with wine and…

His words cut off his line of thoughts.  
  
“You can see her.”

It wasn’t a question. Yet he wished it had been so, to deny him. But at this point, he wished he was blind, after catching a glimpse of her.

\--

The world was vast, and large, and she recalled hooves, steel and hair in the air, much like that long ago night where the bladed wings of the moon were thrown against her. The harpy shrieked and unsheathed her claws in the dome of her head; but at the moment, before the creature could strike, she saw a small cottage looking back at her. She was floating amidst a dark corridor; but as she took more steps, the bricks and walls and ceilings and pillars were stored and smashed aside to shine upon a small, moist cottage. She was back at the swamp, and glad of it, even though alive she would never recall ever visiting such a place.

Without fear or care, she walked forward, not fearing the clouds and lake surrounding her, taking a step inside the house. The door opened at her whim, and once she ventured inside, she was greeted by a large table, alongside with kettles, cakes and tea. Was it tea? It sure sounded and felt like tea…

While she sat on an empty cloud chair by the left side of the table; one of the witches (the soft, comfy one) attempted to offer her a piece of sponge cake. She had just realized the three were sitting there, invested in their spider-ridden tea and on her. Had she seen them before? Her mind tried to recall if they could be sisters to Molly or to even her. But that could not be, if she had ever had sisters, her mind must have quickly disposed of them…

“Want a slice, dearie?”

But she was clear enough to hear them, thankfully.  
  
“I’m not hungry.” She looked around again, at the misshapen yet friendly faces. “Who are you?”

“Ah, some friends, dearie…We sensed you and wondered how would it feel to talk with someone like you. The last of your kind, of course, but it’s better than nothing, even if it’s dim.”  
  
“You’re witches.” She was quite tranquil at the thought, even though Mommy Fortuna’s shade could threaten to jump out of a corner of the cottage.

“So you’re the new guest…Your eyes do not lie, child.”

No, again with the names? How long would she insist on it? She was no human, female or woman, or child…They should have stopped a long time ago. Who else would she have to hurt with her horn?

“I’m not a woman.”

“We know.”

“Ohohoho, I would’ve never guessed he would have such fine tastes…Well, maybe he wanted something new. Try something new. Every millennium you do want to change the bed sheets.”

“Even him? Orddu, he’s a devil.”  
  
“Even devils can drink wine and eat roasted pork, you know it better than I, Orgoch.”

“Does he scare you, dearie?”

Yet she knew quickly to whom they were speaking of.

“No more than the harpy did.”  
  
“And he’s still after the cauldron, but he naively thinks you can aid him. He was always a bit dull.”

She nodded at the misshapen witch’s cackles. She rather thanked these witches so far hadn’t tried to cage her or cut her horn. Had these been Mommy Fortuna’s lost daughters?  
  
“Yes, he’s a lost man.”

“Can you help him? Do you know where the cauldron is?”

“No, I see nothing.”

“Oooh, he’s gonna get so mad now…”

“He’s always angry and threatening us.”

The plump witch and the hooded one just merely laughed at her words, but the tall one was looking at her tea.

“Yet he still relies on you for help…A very patient act for someone not very patient in general.”

“He’ll get tired, and then give up. Stories like his, where he searches a lost object, only lead to the doom of men.”

“Sometimes, sometimes not.”  
  
The witch then clasped her hands with her own.

“It all lies in your hands now, dearie…Take him and imprison him, and it might lead you to your heart’s wished path.”

And her mind left all thoughts of the king and false destinies.

“My path…? Do you know what has happened with the Red Bull!? And King Haggard!? Please, tell me what has happened with the unicorns. I can’t live in this form any longer.”

“Oh, that will take time, dearie, but sooner or later you’ll find yourself dancing with the devil itself in his nest to find the answers you seek. It won’t be anything drastic, I assure you. But do the first thing I ask of you, for I don’t wish to give my toys away.”

“Orddu, you mean…? Oh, that could be so wonderful! So romantic…” The plump witch giggled, but she was still lost with the unicorns floating in her mind. Meanwhile, the slightly taller witch was busy touching a wart on her chin.

“That could work, yes…And might be the only way to avoid this mess, keep him busy and weak…I know I certainly don’t plan on giving the cauldron to that green boy.”

“No, don’t! I still need to polish it!”  
  
“Take him, dearie…Only you can do it. Only you can tame him.”  
  
“Tame who!? Wait!”

But it was too late, the house alongside with the table vanished, and the witches’ faces morphed into that of Celeano again, screeching. She was again on hooves and all fours, and the white hot horn burnt as she dug into the flying chest. Humid boiling blood fell over her snow fur, and she woke up again, with naked hands for hoofs, and headaches for horns.

“My lady!”

She hadn’t screamed, yet Molly was right at her side, lighting up a candle while attempting to fill a cup with water. She wasn’t cold, though she trembled once the woman reached the cup to her lips. The coldness comfort of the night embracing her reminded her of her woods, and how much her legs wished to sprung and run back to it. Her trees, her bears…They would understand her, kiss her and advice her and care for her. And she would forget the music and the memories once and for all.

But as she touched the scratchy mark on her forehead again, she remembered everything. And she remembered Molly was there with her. The yearning would have to wait.  
  
“My lady, it’s all right, all right. I’m here.”

“Molly, I had a dream. It must have been a dream; I think it was.”

Even amidst the darkness she could see the burning bushes that were Molly’s eyes.

“Did you remember the unicorns? Have you seen where they’ve gone?”

She kept drinking the water. If only Molly had captured the sea in the cup, and she could swim and drown in it, only to find the truth in its depth! Even being a mermaid would be preferable at this point.

“…There were witches in my dream…And I think…I think I know where the cauldron is.”

“Schmendrick must know.”

She shook her head. If he even attempted to play one of his fool’s tricks on this…  
  
“He should-”

But Molly was the only one who never cowered at her.

“He _must._ You know he must.” And she pressed her hand, soft but firm.


	5. I can try

Schmendrick approached her as soon as the sun rose, materializing into the room as sunlight itself; faint but bright. His words felt like talons, sharp claws digging and shredding into her crumpled skin.

“Molly said you had something to tell me.”

She replied without staring back at him. It was still taking her time to trust the softness of her bed; any bed rather. Molly was untangling herself with a brush as she looked on.

“I dreamt something last night.”

“Yes, she told me.”

She nodded, clasping on to wool sheets. The weight of the dream seemed to pass on from her to the wizard, the heavyweight lifting and freeing her but for a few minutes. His figure shook slightly, and his brow darkened for a few seconds; but soon enough Schmendrick was back again his usual self.

“Do you remember any particular detail? A hint, a clue?”

“Witches were in my dream.”

“Witches?” He looked back at the door, and then again to her, hoping that her words would drive away any unfortunate listener. “Were you sure they were witches?”  
  
“You can tell a witch apart.” Molly replied sourly, and the other two gulped to her words. They knew better than to merely ignore a witch’s foretelling.

“Well, how was it?”

She recalled faintly, attempting to pluck the grains of her dream that weren’t running away.

“They were three, three sisters, or three friends, or the three stages of a woman’s life, I can’t be assured. All I can remember, if my dream hasn’t trickled down my hands, is that they were drinking tea in a round table, and they had invited me to their lunch…”

“Three witches…Did they look familiar?”  
  
“I didn’t recognize them.”

“I mean as if they looked similar, like siblings.”  
  
“…They all shared red hair, yes.”

Schmendrick placed a finger over his chin, frowning at the mysteries pecking at his mind.

“...Maybe you talked with the witches of Morva.”

She looked up, sleep still stuck in her eyelashes. Schmendrick went on, exalted on his own train of thought.

“We know of them. His Majesty mentioned them the other day, and they’re known among us for being a trio…They fit the description.”

“…I think they may have a connection to the cauldron.”

She remembered the last words the sisters uttered to her, and found her theory to gain weight, could it be? Their words flirted a little too much with the possibility…But then again, maybe it was just a dream; and they were dreaming too much, as well.

“Are you sure?” Molly sat by her feet and observed her. She shrugged faintly, trying to sculpt the proper words for her thoughts.

“They spoke oddly. Maybe they were seers. Something about how I was the only one who could “tame” something, and how they weren’t sure to lent it.”

“Lent what?”

“…I can’t remember.” She wondered aloud then. “How much do men value the Cauldron?”  
  
The magician shrugged, pushing his head to his sides.

“Well, the ones who believe in it, anyways…Others simply admit it is a fairy tale, much in the same way you…I mean…”  
  
“You don’t need to hide your words. We all remember well.”

“My lady…”

She turned her gaze towards her locks of hair, preferring to abstain to Molly’s remark. She considered herself lucky, in a way, that she was still considered beautiful, even if she was chained to that feeble form. _Small joy._

But the runaway maid wasn’t one to be dismissed.

“You shouldn’t besmirch him. You know he’s trying his best to help you.”

“Out of guilt, or out of genuine selflessness?”  
  
“Stop that.”

She could have argued more, for more thoughts and cries ran to her head…But the more she filtered her mind with those thoughts, the more she felt exhausted. _This body will sack me and tire me if I keep on._  
  
“You’re right, forgive me…I’m just…I’m just tired.” She felt the woman would egg on her to continue, but the magician interfered before another argument could be raised.

“We can rant about that any other day. I need you to go back to your dream, please.”

“I think they knew about the Cauldron. I guess they do, as much as we know…But witches can lie and misguide others with their tricks, you know it well.”

“I do. But dreams in stories are never that detailed without forecalling a future event or a prophecy. If they have the cauldron, then we’re in it for luck, since it’s not that far from where we are. Morva is a tranquil land…Of course, there’s the dark irony that the king’s precious whale is right under his nose…Or no nose.”

“If the cauldron exists.” She murmured, dourly. He noted her downtrodden pose.  
  
“Are you doubting it now?”

“With the power of the Cauldron, what can you gain, exactly? Wealth? Immortality? Love?” Humans always craved love, they would even perish at the thought of gaining a caress on the cheek or a kiss. She could do without coins of gold and chains of silver, but she knew how men would also slash at each other’s throats with that same silver just to claim ownership of it. _Blood for naught._

Schmendrick replied faintly, a whisper that died before it ever left the crib of his lips.

“The stories claim just…Power. Power over the dead, power over the living…Just ownership and bondage above all others.”

Molly was trembling, the woman’s shivers slithering down her skin and carefully crawling over her own naked white arms, infecting her as well. Her skin prickled, and even her breath felt brittle. To not even find freedom in death…A small shudder suddenly borne within her, could it be fear? Fear towards the King? Well, of course. She wasn’t so foolish to disregard her safety, even if the Bull was far. He had shown his teeth clenching at every refusal thrown at him, his fists raised, and she imagined well enough that he could easily throw her and Schmendrick into the cauldron once he gained possession of it. _We have landed straight into the wolf’s maws._

Yet, yet…A small reminder also sprung inside her, amidst the fear. As Molly prepared her hot tub for her daily bath, she recalled how he had died as well. Only a man that had played previously with death would have a flayed mask as a face. The rotten skin, the mismatched teeth…Surely he had paid his life as well, and with blood magic he had received the wrong gift. Mommy Fortuna’s shade echoed faintly in her mind, as Molly scrubbed her back with a sponge. _There’s my immortality, eh?_ Men would treason, cheat and steal as long as the promise of a future life awaited them at the end. Just this time, this one time, I had to do it, if it wasn’t him it would be me…Yet how many men could boast of achieving immortality? Many would perish in the quest, or burn after their sins would have been exposed. Was that fate awaiting the King, ready to flay him if he so much as touched the cauldron?

 _He fled from death, from pain, only to not notice that it’ll encircle him as he gets closer._ Molly was then brushing her hair, to shimmer as liquid silver, but she was still lost in her thoughts. So many mornings grazing upon the dewdrops of the flower petals to ever think that her long life was so worth and valued. Not only her, but to others to mimic her longevity…

As she rose from the tub while Molly went in search for a towel, she observed the window. Again, that crow was watching them, awaiting them…To act? To attack him? She would’ve known, earlier, but now…

 _It will end with all our deaths._ She just realized. _If not mine, then his._ She recalled the story of the whale, and imagined they would similarly drown if they continued on. Molly chose the grey tunic with wide sleeves and fur lining that day. She would’ve objected previously, but now she just shrugged as the cloth fell on her shoulders. It was getting colder.

And again, a few minutes later the goblin’s cry echoed in the chamber.

“It’s time, my lady.” Schmendrick laid out his arm for her to hold on to.  
  
“Like it is every single day, and every single day we give him the same answer.”

“You’re getting mouthy.”

“Am I? Am I?” She did not expect for him to confront her like that. “This has been a mistake.”  
  
“Oh yes, because I brought us over to this castle.”

“But…”

“What I’m saying is that we still need to keep our profile low, until we find a way out. You know well that the only reason why we’re not in the dungeons is because the King has taken a liking to you.”

“A liking…”

The only sound heard in the passages aside from their muffled voices were their steps. The goblin, thankfully, seemed deaf at their conversation.

“He knows who you are, and how special you are. If you were a common woman he might have butchered you already.”

“As if he’s not planning to.” Schmendrick bit his lip and looked at her eyes once again.

“You won’t tell him of your dream.”  
  
“No…It’s his loss, anyway. The more he searches, the more he drowns.”

The magician nodded as they continued walking, until they arrived to the broken room where he awaited. As always, so tall, so gaunt, so wasted. He raised a thin white finger to beckon them to get closer.

“Now, let’s see if today we get better results.”

But fifteen minutes, and between her silence, and Schmendrick’s incredulous lies and stammering, the King was at his wit’s end. His roars even scared away

“It cannot be. Day after day, week after week, searching and looking and spying and scouting, and there’s no trace of this cauldron. You’re a wizard! How can you not know?”

“My lord, seeing into the future, searching into the unknown, takes a few more years of study, of practice, of licensing…”  
  
The skeleton waved a hand dismissably towards the blue magician, that instantly shut him up.

However, his eyes were the colour of burnt coals as he approached her. The fire, the maggots…There was fury in those eyes.

“And you…Where is your magic? Where is your wonder? Maybe I was wrong, maybe you’re just a horse after all.”

“A horse!?” She didn’t intend to rise, but she did. “A horse am I!?” Her nostrils were flaring and her hair trembling. Even in this weak state she was insulted.  
  
“My lady!”

“Where is your magic? Why are you so indifferent to my cause? It will never touch you unlike the men. Why are you shielding them from me?”

“I shield nothing from nobody, though perhaps I am too generous with you and your wasteful quest.”

“What.”

Schmendrick was mouthing something behind him, shaking his hands, but to her the man was invisible. It was only her and death at that moment.

But then, her anger subsided, slowly, little by little.

“Maybe you shouldn’t continue searching for the cauldron, Your Grace.”  
  
“No? NO!? And…Who are you, to tell me that!?”

“…A horse.”

His anger subsided for confusion, then irritation. That gave her time.

“Maybe somebody, and nobody, at the same time. But I know that your fate will not occur the way you desire it to.” He shrugged violently.

“Fate is nonsense, a fairy tale bored men tell impatient children to shut them up.”

“Is it?” She paused, her calmness returning once again. “So many men have fallen over similar paths, some even in search of this same cauldron. It seems the road is paved with blood. Maybe it’s the fate you choose.”

And then, Mommy Fortuna’s face was etched into the skull, if only for a second. She shuddered at recalling the breeze pulsing through the harpy’s wings, but it ended once his eyes brightened again.

“Insolent.” He turned from her. “I take you into my castle, feed you, for you to insult…” He was muttering now, she saw. Schmendrick in vain ran towards him.

“My lord, don’t listen to her. Rather, maybe we should-”

“Silence, clown!” Another shout, followed by silence. “Her words are enough.”

He lowered his gaze, his hood covering the little part of his head that he showed. He seemed…Tired. She found it weird, and a little unnerving.

He spoke again, after making time.

“It’s over for today. You may ago.”

He was hunching over, lost in thought. Schmendrick sprawled towards her, light as a butterfly, and tugged at her sleeves, a lost child urging his mother to run back home.

But she released his grip softly and walked back towards the hooded figure. It was dark, but she could tell him apart.

“You should just be wise. You have many men at your disposal, and so much time...I may not know the cauldron, but I can see where fates can lead men.”

It took him a while to reply.

“Even yours?” He was looking at her, she guessed, though she could not see his eyes.

“Mine?”  
  
“…Can you see your own fate?”

He wasn’t so tall, and he wasn’t that scary. If she ever felt fear for him, it utterly vanished in that moment.

She tasted her answer before releasing it.

“I can try.”

She never came to know, in all her life, if that was true or not; but later she came to appreciate the answer, whenever she could recall it.

Another soft tug, and the door opened once again. The cell was then flooded with light, and Creeper stood there, awaiting their exit dutifully.

“Let’s go, my lady.”

What was she called…? Ah, Amalthea. That was her name, yes. She liked the sound of that.

She nodded at Schmendrick, and they both turned towards the light.


	6. Chapter 6

Molly furrowed her brow. There was not enough potatoes to enrich the stew, yet the men were still hungry and demanded for more. Molly wasn’t even sure if what she was cooking could be considered a stew or a soup. What would she need to cook up something decent, a stone? At least that would spice up the brew. Boiled water, some green chicken and rock vegetables, some men have stomachs way too easy to please.

Well, it was either the stone turnips, or gutting a rat. She wouldn't want to recall the cries of Cully and his men in this dump of a castle either.

The men seemed to like it, tho. It seemed so far the day that the three first arrived at the castle, where the men just grumbled and nailed their cold eyes upon them. Now they were cheering Molly’s name, calling her the patron of the kitchen, while they japed with Schmendrick. And of course, silent awed whispers whenever they talked of her. _Good_. Molly wouldn’t want them, scruffy rats, to be near her. 

In truth, nobody got near her, except for the woman and the magician, but she seemed to like that. In a way she made her cell her own sanctuary, where she could rest and ponder. Molly misliked the prison that she turned into her nest, but her words would not soothe the unicorn in these times.

How many months were they living in the castle? There were no clocks for her to observe and calculate the time. Day and night passed, and Molly could only guess based on the grey strands falling from her hair.

She waved the spoon counterclockwise as the hungry, tattered men urged her. They were starving! Couldn’t she be faster?

“Come on, Molly dear, pack some more!”

She sighed. It was as if she was back on the road, with Cully trotting behind her. The fumes from the stew made her sweat, and her hair curl even more than before.

“You’ve already taken three bowls, Willford. That much salt can’t be good for the body.”  
  
Willford, who had a mustache as large as a walrus, just bellowed at her.

  
“Bah! Old wives’ tales. My heart is ticking just as strong as when I was a lad. Pour me some more, love. Only you can cook this hearty soup.”  
  
“It’s a stew.”  
  
“Is it?”

Her will to argue finished once all of them noted a presence in the kitchen. Suddenly, Schmendrick’s figure absorbed the room. The blue shone up against the warmth of the fiery browns of the kitchen, yet the magician seemed perturbed.

“I see it’s lunch time.”  
  
“There are a few carrots and turnips, if you want to fill yourself up.”

“Don’t you got some rabbits? That always adds a lot to a stew.”

“Can you cook without waving your wand, magician?”

“I can melt butter and prepare coffee, if that’s what you’re asking.” He bit his lips. “Anyways, I’m not here for food. The king wants to talk.”

She dropped her spoon so fast, that many droplets of soup went splashing around. She didn’t care, though.

“Right now?”

“It’s urgent. I left her with him.”  
  
“You what!?”

“Molly, more soup, please!”

Two thoughts were rushing through her head. She might’ve grabbed the spoon again to wave it at the hungry masses, but preferred to leave her apron behind and lend it to Willford.  
  
“Oh, serve yourselves. Willford, now you’re in charge of the portions.”  
  
“As you say, my lady!”

The men didn’t seem to care once she traded herself with the man, but once they left the swarming kitchen she turned to Schmendrick, his face reddening.

“What made you think it was wise to leave her with him!? Do you always have to make such stupid decisions?”

“It was his order! He called for you, and sent me to find you. What could I have done?” He licked his lips as he paused. “She doesn’t seem that scared of him anyway.”

“Just because she _seems_ , doesn’t mean she isn’t.” She pursed her lips. “There are many things you don’t know about women.”  
  
“She’s not a woman, you know that well.”

They hurried along until they arrived to the familiar room, where, once again, Creeper stood there, near the entrance, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re late.”

They opened the door; and once again, in the center of the room, there stood the unicorn and the king. She was sitting in a small stool, perhaps too small for her, but she sat with all the grace of a queen. She wore a black robe that day, contrasting sharply against her silver mane. Meanwhile, he was hunching over her, observing the way a child might watch a bug. Would he smash her? Molly worried for a faint second, until the corpse turned to look at them.

Always hovering, always so large, always with that musky red robe...When was the last time he washed it? Or his goblin servant did, for she doubted he ever made a chore in his life...Like kings tended to do.

But once Molly turned to look at the woman again, her fears dissipated, and she turned to hear the King’s speech.

“There will be no need for more searches for the cauldron.”

\--

It was too sudden, too quick. Schmendrick didn’t waste time and responded far too quick.  
  
“So, can we leave, my lord?”

She lowered her head. She knew how he would react, could even await for it.  
  
“My words did not imply that.” The words were cracked and dry, tired; yet Schmendrick kept groveling as if he yelled his words. 

“Oh, forgive me your Grace. I didn’t…”  
  
“You know very well what you intended to say.”

 _My poor fool_. He would speak a little more, and the King could easily have his tongue pulled out. She heard often tales of cruel kings that committed such punishments. The loathing his glance carried…

The King, however, went back to talking about searches and cauldrons, as if uninterrupted.

“Stay in the castle. Maybe we will have better luck some weeks later. Besides…Haggard and his bull are still searching for you, aren’t they?” He pointed towards her, but she didn’t answer. She hadn’t opened her mouth in all the afternoon, accompanying him. He didn’t seem to mind her silence, anyway. Unsurprised, he continued.

“You’re safer here.” He turned again towards the humans. “All of you, the castle will be your home now, for you are safer with my men’s protection that out there, vulnerable to Haggard’s whims.” He paused. “Just continue your chores, and we’ll gift you with warm beds, food, water, clothes, as we had already.”

Well, she didn’t recall her companions were given clothes. But it seemed the offer had made the intended effect on them.

“Oh, my lord, thank you thank you, you’re too kind...Really, I doubt...”  
  
“Enough, leave.” He turned one final time to look at her, and she followed. “Take her as well.”

“As you wish, your Grace.”

The two then took her by the arms and pushed her towards the door, but Amalthea felt the need to see him again. Unfortunately, she only cast a glimpse of his shadow before the corridors welcomed her again.

“Were you alright, my lady? Did he touch you?”

“We did nothing, he just looked at me...” Molly’s sunken eyes tired her, it was enough to remember her daily, for her also to consider her worries. It was enough to wear herself out.

Schmendrick, meanwhile, was too busy approaching the future prospects.

“Well, things seem to be going swiftly.”

“Don’t lie, he’s goading at the fact that he’s got the last unicorn in the world. And to rub it in Haggard’s face…He’ll like that.”

“Well, better fed and and warm than starving.”

“Do you really think we would’ve spent so much time lost in the woods? Is your sense of direction that poor?”

“Well not poor, but without a map and with warlords...”  
  
They soon forgot about her, but she did not forget the cloaked creature, how she saw the fire hidden amidst the clothes, nor how his figured shook as he raised a bony hand towards her...

And in her dreams, she caught it back.

\---

A few days after, Amalthea found herself wandering amidst the corridors. Eventually, even as she grew to care for her two prisons; she still missed the warm air that would kiss her and tangle her mane. And the cries of the birds, of the newly born babies, of the flowers gently greeting all other creatures nearby...

_It will always be spring, at least inside of me. Not even this cavern can take that away._

But the windows showed another picture, not one of life of light and life, but dry, bitter woods; only a decrepit leaf blowing through the barren air. _A mirror of this house, then._

She titled her head, slightly. She recognized those footsteps.

And there he was, clad in red, as always. She wasn’t even phased to see him at this point.

”...My lord.”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, if he had them of course. He always looked at her like that. Was he like the Bull, attempting to catch her when she was at her most distracted? 

“You like looking at windows.”

“It reminds me of the woods.”

“Your woods are lilac, as you said.”

She nodded. She liked how their intonation seemed oddly similar.

“Yes, leaves never fell in my forest, nor snow. It was a beautiful forest.”

“Eventually, winter must come.”  
  
“But not to my forest. Never there.”

“Oh, and are you going to save it from here? Where you are?”

“I easily could, if I had the power.”

A pale finger ran on her lips. “At least they were safe.”  
  
“They?”  
  
“All the creatures that lived with me. The bears, the birds, the foxes…This would be their first winter.”

“They’re just small animals, they die and birth again and again.”

“I know, but they must feel alone and scared…And cold…Some had never known the cold before.”

“Do you?”

“I do now.”

“Now.” He hung the word in his voice, but not mockingly. He seemed to like observing her behavioral patterns. She turned her dropped eyes towards him.

“Yes, I get hungry often, and cold…Tired, ever since all of this began. But I can’t stop…I don’t know how, I wished tho.”

“I will send more firewood to your room, if you please.”  
  
“… I wouldn’t mind that.”

Kindness, coming from him? Unusual, yet again, she should know better at this point. He was once mortal, he could still give kindness out. The remains of his past life would always linger over him.

“…I was wondering, if you did not mind, if you would like to walk through my woods tomorrow. Maybe my forests are not as rich or engulfing as your lilac woods, but they could provide a small diversion.”

And even more kindness! To feel again the breeze and the sun, to attempt to walk again near a stream...Amalthea could not wait at all for that.

“…That would be nice. I appreciate it.”

“It’s a small gesture.”

He started to turn back where he came, but something called for her...To reach him, touch him...

“Your Grace?”

He paused, slightly rising his head, but not turning to look at her.

“How did you know who I was?”

His back spoke to her, but she oddly felt him close, as if warmed up in his embrace; as he answered.

“Even a blind bat could recognize you. You shine so brightly and pale…Even my castle seemed to breath once again the moment you passed through the portcullis.”

“My Lord, your words…”

"They are but the truth."

She finally spoke what she had been holding on for so long, tempting, soothing, but never really forgetting. Else it would devour her.

“I’m glad I could not lie to you. This body is…Not mine, though it wishes to, and for you to know me as I am...Who I am...And not just this cage...”

His arm rose, and gestured for hers to follow suit. She did, slowly, and he captured her hand in mid-air. For such a monstrous figure, he held a soft grip upon her hand, as if tending a feather. His eye sockets followed her suit, and landed on the hold.

She nodded, but she felt oddly relaxed. He was a skeleton, but with that tender grip, he wouldn't hurt her. No, she figured he wouldn't, he couldn't, more likely.

“It is a part of you now, and you will never forget it. There is good in it, too, see it from that angle. It saved you from the Bull.”

“Maybe it should have taken me that night.”  
  
“You are safer here that in that scavenger’s clutches.”

"I doubt it."

"Then you need to open your eyes even more, my lady."

It took her a long while, but she eventually did. If she didn't, she would've never survived in the world in the first place. And to hold the heart of a monster, you must have a brave, iron heart of your own.


End file.
